


conjugate

by lunardistance



Category: Code Geass
Genre: F/M, Non-Consensual Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunardistance/pseuds/lunardistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a not-quite rollo/nunnally piece that has long been overdue. still not entirely content with it, but this is for <a href="http://kyoy.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://kyoy.livejournal.com/"><b>kyoy</b></a> who encouraged me to post more. beta'd by <a href="http://austere-flare.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://austere-flare.livejournal.com/"></a><b>austere_flare</b>~</p>
    </blockquote>





	conjugate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyoy/gifts).



> a not-quite rollo/nunnally piece that has long been overdue. still not entirely content with it, but this is for [](http://kyoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**kyoy**](http://kyoy.livejournal.com/) who encouraged me to post more. beta'd by [](http://austere-flare.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://austere-flare.livejournal.com/)**austere_flare** ~

She can **feel** him. Her eyes cannot see (can no longer see, perhaps never again will) but her body tingles under his gaze. Her skin crawls, feeling his unnatural eyes rake over her still form. The disgust rolls off him in waves and it sickens her to the stomach.

"Lamperouge-san, what is it?" she dares to ask, the gentle quality of her voice masking the horrid feeling welling up in her chest. Her ears strain desperately for any sound around her – mind racing with thoughts, ideas, _fears_ of where he might have taken her.

"You know the truth," he says accusingly.

His voice is beautiful, a soft, boyish melody, but his words are sharp and cutting. She feels his gaze turn into a glare, and her nails dig into the arms of her wheelchair.

"The truth, Lamperouge-san?" she echoes faintly. Her ears catch the sound of his footsteps, barely audible but to sharpened senses.

He comes to a stop in front of her, and she tries not to tremble.

"Don't play dumb, Nunnally. You know the truth about Onii-sama."

The boy's tone is darker now, its boyish melody draining away to be replaced by cold, dark malice. To her sightless self, the coldness is almost tangible, crawling along her skin and tearing at her breast in a furious attempt to worm its way into her heart.

She lifts her chin a little, as if to meet his face. "About Zero," she acknowledges quietly, finally confirming out loud what she had felt in her heart all along.

A part of her still doubts, still reasons that _No! No! Onii-sama would never kill. Euphie-nee-sama, he loved her too much, he loved her more than –_

Rollo's hands grip her arms, pinning them down to the wheelchair.

"You are a liability," he says carefully, his warm breath wafting gently over her bangs, letting her know that he is, indeed, _very_ close by.

"I may know that Onii-sama is..." she falters here, but continues on bravely, "... _Zero_... but it would not be within anyone's immediate interests to expose his true identity. No benefits would be gained from such an action, and aside from that, I have no proof to support this claim in the first place. People would more likely think me crazy than believe me, and I will not jeopardize my position to take such a risk."

"...He is burdened by you," Rollo remarks softly.

Nunnally's body freezes up immediately, her face slackening with shock. She feels the weight of his hands leaving her arms only to tap at her legs (her _useless legs_ ) as if to emphasize his point.

"I do not burden Onii-sama!" she cries out a truth she has always believed in, a truth that her brother, her beloved Onii-sama never failed to reassure her of no matter how much she felt it was true – that she was nothing but a useless, unwanted burden to him.

"Don't lie to yourself, Nunnally. You are blind and a cripple. He could be doing such brilliant things, things he is more than capable of doing, and yet his thoughts are filled with nothing but you. You burden him, Nunnally. Your sightless eyes and your deformed legs..."

Tears start to well up behind her closed lids, but she holds them back determinedly.

"Why are you doing this? Why would you _want_ to do this?" she cries out.

She feels his hands lift away from her legs and turns her head about frantically, trying to pinpoint where he had gone.

"Why am I doing this?" he echoes, his voice resounding menacingly from behind her. "I am doing this for him. He is suffering so much because of you, Nunnally. He could have lived his life out peacefully, enjoying happiness like a normal person – the happiness he deserves...

"But because of you, he is losing those things. Each day he fights for a handicapped girl who is restored to the former glory he no longer has privilege to; a girl who almost ruined his carefully laid out plans—for _her_ sake, at that!—because of her petty whims; a girl who sides with that _filthy traitor_ that sold him out.

"And yet he still loves you. He still fights for you. People think that everything he does is for the good of the world, but no - it is for you. He would gladly give up everything for your happiness. Even now, he is changing the world for you, and yet you know _nothing_ about his sacrifices."

Silence reigns for a few horrendous moments. Suddenly, a soft hand touches her face, long fingers resting against her cheek while a thumb brushes against her eyelid.

"What does he see in you?" he murmurs softly, warm breath ghosting over her lips before his mouth covers hers in a fierce, emotionless kiss.

The tears Nunnally had tried to hold back finally break free, dripping down her cheeks as she struggles against him. Her hands find the stiff line of his shoulders, and they bunch into the fabric in a futile attempt to push him away.

His tongue pushes past the tiny parting of her lips, tangling insistently with her own tongue and coaxing her to submit to the pressure.

"No," she cries, but her protest is muffled into the warm cavern of his mouth.

Despite how increasingly intense the kiss becomes with each passing moment, Nunnally despises it. His kiss, like his voice, is far too brutal and filled with hatred to be anything near enjoyable.

He ignores her protests and takes advantage of her limited mobility by pinning her against the back of her wheelchair.

Nunnally's hands slip down, trying to reach the emergency distress button embedded into the side of the wheelchair, but he predicts the move long before she has a chance to execute it. His hands dart to her wrists, trapping her hands against either side of her head.

"Your precious soldiers won't be able to protect you now, Your Majesty," he snarls mockingly into her ear, his lips brushing lightly against her temple in a mockery of a lover's tender kiss before he crushes his mouth against hers.

Her lips are bruised over and over, as if he is trying to leave a branding mark on her, to tell the whole world that a terrorist had punished her for her vile, heartless actions against someone who thought the entire world of her.

The Britannian princess starts to break down over the renewed assault. His body is crushing her painfully, and she feels almost as scared as she was on those first few nights after her mother's death – emotionally broken, physically crippled, and yet powerless to do anything about it.

But back then her beloved brother had been there for her, promising to protect her

_("I'll be your eyes and your legs, Nunnally.")_

and make her happy

_("I love you, Nunnally!")_

for always.

She cherishes his promise, but—and she hates herself for this—she doubts he will come to save her this time.

Rollo shifts his position, and something heavy bumps against her chest.

To Nunnally's heightened sense of touch, the object is familar. The studs on its surface, the unmistakable weight...She has felt this before...

"The locket," Nunnally breathes out in understanding.

As if her words burn him, Rollo immediately moves back. His withdrawal frees her from his weight, and the princess takes the chance to rub her wrists in an attempt to urge her blood to flow through the numbness.

"How do you know?" he demands.

The coldness in his voice is gone, replaced by something hot and fierce—something that sounds like self-righteous anger and insistent protectiveness cloaking a strong feeling of love.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Nunnally finds herself holding back her laughter. "Onii-sama was never good at hiding secrets from me, not when he was excited. I kept hearing him move back to a specific spot in the room, and while he was out, I explored the area and found a box. Sayoko-san informed me that it was from a reputable jeweler – a custom-made locket. And Onii-sama always got me something for my birthday."

A tense silence descends upon them with Nunnally wrapped up in fond memories of the past and Rollo bound by the fear of a possible future that he is willing to do anything in his power to prevent from coming into fruition – a future he is not part of.

"He gave it to you, didn't he?" she asks softly.

He is shocked, but tries to recover quickly. "What is it to you if he gave it to me?" he almost snarls.

Nunnally nods slowly, a look of understanding dawning upon her face.

"He must care for you," she states. Her voice betrays neither happiness nor sadness, but a calm neutrality that makes Rollo furrow his brows in confusion.

" _You_ —what are you—" he tries to ask, but his question is cut off by a man's voice calling for the Britannian princess.

His face twists into a dark scowl, contemplating the thought of shooting the man (maybe even shooting Nunnally herself) but he knows it will be far too much trouble to be caught here with the missing princess.

Rollo turns to escape, but she calls out to him. Despite the rapidly approaching sounds of footsteps and the increasingly loud cries of her name; against all his instincts to flee and his better judgment, he looks back at her.

There are tear tracks lingering on her cheeks but her face is calm, her body relaxed against the large back of her wheelchair. Her hands are clasped neatly in her lap and she wears a faint smile, mysterious in that he cannot decipher the emotions that lie in it.

"Take care of him enough for the both of us," she bids him softly, but firmly.

Rollo sucks in a large breath, his eyes widening in surprise. He wants to demand the meaning behind her words, but a man in a Britannian military uniform (a mere soldier, he observes condescendingly) spots them upon turning a corner, and starts to rush towards the princess and the curious stranger.

The young man restrains from cursing wildly. He activates his Geass, freezing the soldier in place, and uses the extra five seconds to stagger into hiding.

Rollo's Geass wears off and the soldier resumes running.

"Your Highness, are you all right?" he asks of the young woman upon finally reaching her side. The soldier looks around confusedly; he could have sworn he had seen someone else standing beside the Governor...

"I am fine, thank you. Please forgive the trouble I have caused everyone. I am afraid I got too caught up exploring the Academy grounds and completely lost track of the time," Nunnally responds, tilting her head slightly towards the trees that Rollo hides behind; not enough that it would look anything more than a casual movement, but just enough to catch and hold the dangerous gaze Rollo gives her.

"A-all right, Your Highness. We should be heading back now, so ..." the soldier nods hesitantly.

Nunnally returns his nod in affirmation. The man draws out a communication device to alert his fellow soldiers, confiming the location of the Governor and their intention to return.

Rollo watches the soldier wheel Nunnally away to meet up with other soldiers in the area and group together to escort the Princess. Something unpleasant settles into his chest, and he briefly wonders what would happen if he set his Geass on them.

He decides against it in the end – it would cause unnecessary conflict, thus more trouble for Lelouch to have to fix. The young man settles for watching the armymen and the Governor until they disappear out of his line of sight.

As if on reflex, an odd habit he has developed unconsciously, Rollo reaches inside his breast pocket. His fingers twist and wrap around the locket.

For once, he does not think of Lelouch.


End file.
